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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360787">The Meaning of Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/galadarius/pseuds/galadarius'>galadarius</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Felix is Ingrid's husband, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grieving, Hospitalization, Living Together, Married Life, Modern AU, Modern Era, Multi, Not Beta Read, Open Marriage, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Sylvain is their boyfriend, city life, everyone's in their late twenties or so, might change the title, other characters are mentioned but don't appear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:01:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/galadarius/pseuds/galadarius</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When tragedy strikes the contented union of Ingrid, Felix and Sylvain, they must decide how much to sacrifice to aid a beloved friend- and see if they can ever truly heal from the tragedies of their past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius &amp; Ingrid Brandl Galatea &amp; Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Meaning of Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ingrid was awake by nine that morning, earlier than she usually did on a free day. It must be a very bright day, she thought, because the sun’s fierce radiance was visible even underneath the thick, midnight blue curtains she’d hug up. Ingrid glanced to her side to see that Felix was still fast asleep, his face against their many pillows, and kissed her husband’s cheek fondly. If anyone needed rest, it was a volunteer firefighter during the summertime. He’d fallen asleep so quickly last night that he hadn’t even scolded Sylvain for not telling them where he was or where he’d be home.</p><p>Ingrid sat up, stretched, and quietly slipped on socks before leaving Felix to his morning dreams. On the way to the bathroom, Ingrid peered behind the nearly closed door of Sylvain’s bedroom. She sighed and shook her head when she saw that he wasn’t there. His bedroom was messy as always- clothes on the floor, chair pulled out of its desk, his computer still on. Ingrid made a mental note to tell him later to clean it as she gave her hair a quick brush. She’d pin it up later, when the boys would be wanting a proper breakfast.</p><p><i>The boys.</i> Ingrid laughed to herself at that. She and Felix were twenty-seven and Sylvain was pushing thirty, regardless of whether he acted like it. But a part of her would always see them as the boisterous teenagers she’d gone to school with for all twelve years of her child- and young adulthood. In many ways, she supposed she was the same too. She still daydreamed and liked to be read to before bed.</p><p><i>I guess I’ll give him a call,</i> Ingrid decided as she descended the dark, eerie staircase. <i>And if he doesn’t pick up… Well, I’m sure Felix can chew him out when he wakes up. I just hope he’s safe-</i></p><p>But her anxiety faded immediately when Ingrid approached the living room. That strange, soft noise she’d heard from upstairs was none other than Sylvain’s snoring. He was stretched out on the couch, barely covered by a blanket, face down and one arm hanging off, hand nearly touching the floor. Ingrid groaned, but still smiled in relief as she quickly made her way to the kitchen to start coffee, wondering if the noise would rouse Sylvain.</p><p><i>Couldn’t make it to his bedroom… He must’ve come home sometime after four,</i> Ingrid mused as she glanced at her friend from the doorway. <i>But he managed not to wake either of us up, so that’s worth something, I guess? At least he didn’t bring anyone else home.</i></p><p>By the time Ingrid had a cup of coffee and returned to the living room to watch the news (she left the volume off and captions on) Sylvain had rolled over and sighed deeply in his sleep. His hair, almost shoulder-length now, was a mess of curls and stubble was visible on his chin. Ingrid heard him murmur incoherently a few times as she sipped coffee, and wondered with a giggle what kind of things he dreamed about. </p><p>
  <i>I think I can guess. Probably whatever hot girl or chiseled guy he saw at work yesterday. Or maybe both of them.</i>
</p><p>Ingrid and Felix both worked at the same job- her a chef and him a waiter at one of the city’s more high-end restaurants. The pay was great even without tips, but it was stressful at the best of times and lately Ingrid had been wondering what else she could do with her skills. She’d been drawn to the food industry for her passion, and Sylvain had presumably seen the job as a good way to meet attractive women and men for his incurable flirting affliction. At least nowadays, he seemed to be trying to keep a lid on it, now that Ingrid and Felix considered him part of their union.</p><p>This was one thing Ingrid didn’t understand about him, she thought as she looked back at the sleeping Sylvain, now on his side with a slightly louder snore. He’d told her and Felix years ago, when they’d agreed to let him upgrade his status from temporary couch-crasher to permanent roommate, on account of his status as their friend since grade school. But Sylvain still seemed every bit as committed to non-commitment as he was in his teenage years. Ingrid wondered if he ever intended to properly settle down- and if that meant he'd no longer be living with them.</p><p>Ingrid was just about to go and see if Felix was awake yet, but she heard Sylvain groan a little as he stretched, then slowly sat up, looking a little blearily around him. “Good morning,” Ingrid said as cordially as she could, and he whipped his head up instantly.</p><p>“I-I can explain what happened!” Sylvain said quickly, throwing off the blanket Ingrid had thrown on him and fumbling around for a shirt. “Stuff just kinda… happened last night…”</p><p>“Well, calm down, for starters, Felix might still be asleep,” Ingrid said a bit more firmly, “and I didn’t hear a thing last night. What time did you get here?”</p><p>“Er…” Sylvain paused, ruffling his hair thoughtfully, “maybe… two or so? I, uh, I went to the bar after work.”</p><p>“Yeah, I figured,” Ingrid frowned, turning off the TV, “without telling me, I might add. I mean, I knew where you probably were, but how come you didn’t answer my texts?”</p><p>“I was busy,” Sylvain answered, as if one word was a proper explanation, but then he added, “Alright, alright, I met a nice girl. A really nice girl. She was the one who took me out, and was even nice enough to give me a lift home.”</p><p>“Were you drinking there?” Ingrid pressed when Sylvain paused, and a tinge of red touched his cheeks. A sure sign of guilt.</p><p>“Yeah, but only ‘cause I knew I’d have today off. It’s fine to indulge every now and then, isn’t it? And besides, I didn’t get that drunk. I can remember the girl’s name, at least. It was, er… Dor-something? Doris?”</p><p>“Sylvain…” Ingrid tried to keep the concern higher in her voice than the annoyance, “we’ve been over this. I’m totally fine if you want to go out with someone else. Even if you want to bring them here, as long as it’s not during the dead of night. But you need to let Felix and I know where you are, at the very least. What if she hadn’t been able to give you a ride home?”</p><p>Sylvain frowned, but looked guilty now, his messy red hair making him look almost like a scolded, untidy dog. “I know, I know. But I’m not eighteen anymore, I can take care of myself. I would’ve got a taxi, or… well, I know how to stay safe. Trust me.”</p><p>Ingrid was about to say that the only reason she insisted on knowing Sylvain’s whereabouts during his nocturnal excursions was because she didn’t want him to end up stranded on the other side of the city, but she simply got up and sat next to him on the couch, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He grinned from ear to ear at the gesture of peace.</p><p>“Go take a shower,” Ingrid suggested, “and Felix should be up by then. If not, we can wake him up together. We’ll be creative.”</p><p>“Sounds good to me,” Sylvain agreed, and he gave Ingrid the quickest of cheek pecks before departing for the upstairs. His stubble tickled her face and she caught herself glancing fondly off in space for a moment. Sylvain might have been a headache at the best of times, but the one thing Ingrid knew she could count on was that she and Felix were his best friends. Sometimes they were a little more than that, and Ingrid found herself wondering as she started to clean the kitchen counters in preparation for breakfast how she’d feel if Sylvain ended up courting this Doris individual. </p><p>-</p><p>An hour later the entire house smelled of breakfast- Ingrid had made fried potatoes, sausages and warmed fruit preserves. It was great having a professional chef around, the boys always agreed on. But as Sylvain was getting situated at the table, Ingrid asked him what was keeping Felix.</p><p>“I think he’s still asleep,” Sylvain said, unconcerned when there was a mountain of food waiting for him. </p><p>“I’ll take him up coffee, give me a minute.”</p><p>The best way to wake up Felix, Ingrid had learned back in the teenage days of their relationship, was with coffee. She knocked lightly on the closed door, and when she got no reply, opened it gently, saying softly, “Felix?”</p><p>To her surprise, Ingrid saw that her husband was awake, propped up on a pillow and frowning at his phone. He didn’t seem to notice Ingrid until she placed his coffee on their bedside table and then glanced up with a brief smile.</p><p>“Thank you, love,” but his smile faded immediately, “Listen, I just got a text from Dedue. Is Sylvain around?”</p><p>“He’s downstairs,” Ingrid answered, “something going on?” She wondered if she ought to tell Felix about Sylvain’s night, but then she noticed the worry in her husband’s eyes.</p><p>“Yeah. Just… give me a moment, alright? I’ll join you guys soon.”</p><p>Puzzled, Ingrid returned to the dining room, but Felix was there almost as soon as she sat down. He was still holding his phone and hasn’t served himself breakfast yet. Sylvain took his eyes off his plate long enough to notice that something was wrong.</p><p>“Hey, man, what’s up? Why’re you already dressed?” Sylvain’s eyebrows lowered a bit, “You didn’t get called in today, did you? It’s our day off.”</p><p>“No. It’s… You guys, Dimitri’s in the hospital. Dedue just told me.”</p><p>The coziness of the kitchen faded instantly. Sylvain exchanged a shocked look with Ingrid.</p><p>“He was admitted last night,” Felix said, reading the text aloud in a strained voice, “he’s just been sick for a long time. Months. He’s been so pale and hardly sleeping or eating at all.” </p><p>Felix put his phone face down and pressed his forehead into his hand. Ingrid wanted to stroke his hair, touch his hand, some other gesture of affection, but Felix usually hated being touched when he was under stress. He said softly, “Sorry, maybe I should’ve waited until after breakfast. It’s just…”</p><p>“Hey, don’t apologize,” Sylvain said after a pause, “I’d want to know right away, too. Did you get any more news than that?”</p><p>“No. Just visiting hours if we’d like to see him, and only two at a time.”</p><p>“I’ll stay home,” Ingrid volunteered immediately, “you two just make sure you tell me how he’s doing.”</p><p>“If you say so,” Felix said, giving his wife a look of sympathy. “Hours begin at two, so we’ll be able to drive there soon. We’ll try not to stay too long, I’ll let you know when we’re coming home.”</p><p>Ingrid nodded, then sighed softly. She suddenly regretted making so much food, since her appetite had completely vanished. She tried to listen as Sylvain explained to her and Felix what had happened last night in greater detail, and although she was glad that her friend was safe and assured them that he wouldn’t leave them in the dark again, just the word hospital had a strong negative meaning in Ingrid’s mind. And Felix would know the real reason why she didn’t want to go there, even if an old friend of hers was there.</p><p>“Hey,” Felix said gently as Ingrid got up to leave, “I’m sure he’ll be alright, love. I know that man, he’s a lot stronger than he seems sometimes.”</p><p>“I hope so,” was all Ingrid could say, and she accepted the hug Sylvain gave and Felix’s kiss but didn’t return either. Her happy mood had totally vanished and she did not leave her bedroom until the boys were ready to leave, to see them off.</p><p>-</p><p>Alone now, Ingrid waited until the boys had left the driveway and were safely out of sight of the house to return to her bedroom, standing quite still at the kitchen window, staring at the empty and uninteresting parking lot. She walked slowly upstairs to her bedroom and sat on the bed she shared with Felix for a long moment, her gaze now fixated on the closet.</p><p>
  <i>I might as well just force myself to let it out. Otherwise, who knows when it’ll come back up. When I’m at work, when I’m driving Felix home, when I’m shopping, whenever. And the longer I keep it in, the worse it will be.</i>
</p><p>After sitting still for another minute, Ingrid opened up the small closet after turning on the bedroom light. It was cluttered with stuff that her and the boys had saved over the years- dresses she’d never worn, folders of old artwork, a few stuffed animals that Ingrid didn’t have the heart to give away, and most sentimental of all, in a small cardboard box with the flaps torn off, a few photo albums. She had to rummage quite a bit before Ingrid found what she was looking for. A small, dark blue frame, covered in dust.</p><p>She picked it up and turned it over and a familiar pain seized her empty stomach. In the frame was a yellowed and blurry photo of a smiling young man. His dark, shoulder-length hair was the exact same color of his younger brother’s, as were his brown eyes. A name was scribbled in the bottom of the photo, in Felix’s handwriting. </p><p>
  <i>Glenn Fraldarius</i>
</p><p>Ingrid could feel the tears building already and felt a trace of relief. She gently set down the photo and sniffed a few times, trying now to picture where Glenn would fit into her life if he was still alive. He had been killed more than ten years before, the victim of an armed robbery in one of the most violent areas of the city. And the hospital that he’d died at was the one Dimitri had been admitted to.</p><p>
  <i>He’d be living with us now, with Felix and I, or at least nearby. He’d have gotten to watch us graduate, watch us get our first jobs and buy this house, watch us get married. He’d be there, I’d be able to text him or call him if I wanted to hear his voice, he’d always be there to make me feel better and smile and laugh just like he always did.</i>
</p><p>The floodgates were opened and Ingrid threw herself on her bed, sobbing with all her might, thinking of nothing but Glenn and how he had died and how much she missed him and how she would continue to miss him for her entire life. How unfair it was that he’d been taken so young, in such a horrible way. How sometimes Ingrid would let herself believe that he would have taken her for a partner instead of his brother.</p><p>Every time Ingrid needed to cry, she’d looked at Glenn’s picture, and every time, it worked. It always awakened all of the sorrow that she didn’t even know she’d buried so deep within her. And although it felt healthier than letting her sadness consume her, like what seemed to have happened to Dimitri, no matter how hard she cried, no matter how sick she felt afterwards, that gravity well of grief would never be emptied. Time and memories would always come back to refill those dark waters.</p>
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